I, too, am Human
by silverbirch
Summary: Not everyone can be a hero, and anti-heroes have their story to tell; stories of hopes and dreams crushed and replaced by doubts and fears. We may not agree with them, but they have a right to be heard. An occasional series, starting with Petunia Dursley. JK Rowling created these marvellous characters, I just borrow them.
1. Petunia Dursley

I already know what you think of me. I'm the personification of the wicked step-mother, the woman who mistreated and abused your hero. I do not write this to beg your forgiveness but, after what has happened to me, you owe it to me to read my side of the story before making your final judgement.

Not that I care what you think. What have you ever done for me? There are only two people in my life I care about, who matter to me. The same two people you have tried to destroy, with your monsters and wars.

There was a third but you've already taken her away from me, haven't you? To you she is a saint and a martyr. To me she was my little sister, and it was my job to look after her because I was older. But you split us apart, luring her away with tricks until you destroyed her, too. So, no, do not expect me to come crawling to you. It is not you who needs to find forgiveness. But I'll start at the beginning because all fairy stories have a beginning, as well as a dark side.

Once upon a time there were two sisters. They lived happily with their loving parents in a small house in an old mill town and everything was perfect. Except it wasn't.

The older sister wasn't happy, because she wanted her family to be like everybody else, and they weren't. She would watch the men go off to work and then call in at the pub on the way home. She would watch them go to football on a Saturday afternoon. She would watch the women hanging out washing on a Monday. She would smell the meals they would cook for their men folk to come home to. They were good honest smells; of stews and pies and roasting meat. She would listen to them gossiping to each other over the fence.

A lot of the time they were gossiping about us, the "odd family" who lived amongst them but were not like them.

My parents didn't work; they were "artists". My father was a disciple of Lowry. He would paint pictures of terraced houses and factory chimneys, of women queuing outside the butcher's shop and of men on their way to football matches wearing their red and white scarves.

My mother collected wool shed by the sheep on the moors above our town and spun it, dyeing it with wild plants. Then she would knit jumpers. To me they looked awful; shapeless and mud coloured. Why would anyone want to wear them when the shops were full of brightly coloured clothes made from new materials like polyester? But some people did; people like them, who were trapped in the past rather than looking forward to a future where plastic and space ships and nuclear energy would sweep away everything old fashioned.

Even their tastes in music had to be different to everyone else. Not for them the brass bands or the ballads heard on the radio, that everyone else in our street listened to. No, they liked jazz and we would be taken along to listen and hopefully acquire a taste for it. I never did; a discordant jangling that made no sense. Then there were the people we met there. Men who wore polo neck jumpers and odd, foreign looking hats on their heads; berets, they were called. What was wrong with the flat caps normal people wore around our town?

The women were even worse, either wearing the kind of clothes my mother made or slacks. They even smoked in public. They thought they were so wonderful they made up special words for themselves. They were "cool" or "hip" and they called each other "daddy-o". They never considered how ridiculous they looked or sounded as they tried so hard to be different.

But I wanted my parents to be like everyone else. I wanted to fit in, for them to fit in, so we wouldn't be talked about, or given odd looks in the street. I wanted us to be normal, anonymous people who got on with their lives. I didn't want to be the one sat on my own at school because the other children avoided me. I wanted friends who would come and play, but they never did, so I learnt to ignore them and turned my back on them.

Lily liked jazz, and the people we met in the clubs. She thought they were exciting and exotic; peacocks compared to sparrows. She never really liked our town, blackened by the smoke from the factory chimneys; good, honest smoke from industry and hard work. She liked the countryside, and loved going with our mother to collect wool. I had to go along as well. The only part I enjoyed was looking down from afar and seeing the work being done and the money being made. That is how things should be. Produce as efficiently as possible and sell for as much as possible. That is how people become rich and happy, not trailing around a wet moor picking discarded wool from bramble bushes and barbed wire fences.

It had been so different when we were younger. We were devoted to each other and spent all our time together. I would tell her stories and help her with games and puzzles. It was me who taught her how to skip and play hopscotch. I remember the day I started school; I'd never seen her so miserable. She held my hand all the way and cried when we had to part at the gates. I can still remember the hug she gave me when I came out. She held my hand all the way home as well.

It started to change when she began school herself and made her own friends. For some reason I can't work out she'd found it easier than me. Maybe it's because Lily was the pretty one, who could sing and dance and make people smile. She was much more independent, too. I think it happens a lot, but parents are more relaxed about second children. I had been the practise, and they'd probably worried more. On the rare occasions I did go to someone's house to play I'd be walked there and back by one of them; Lily was allowed to go on her own. As she grew up, she started to grow away from me but I was still the one she came to if she'd hurt herself or had an argument with one of her little friends and I'd cuddle her until she felt better.

Then the "happenings" started. She could jump off a swing without hurting herself, and make flowers bloom just by holding them. I tried to tell her to stop doing it, that it wasn't natural and she was drawing attention to herself, but she never listened. What I didn't know at the time was that it was magic. I've never found out how she managed to catch it. Harry - yes, I am still in contact with him; he is family - says it's genetics, but I don't know whether to believe him or not. Perhaps it is, which is how he got it, but it doesn't explain Lily. I'm not affected and nor were our parents. Maybe it skips generations and she was a throwback. I worry about that but my grandchildren have shown no signs of anything abnormal, so perhaps I've been lucky in that respect.

When she met that dreadful boy, the poor one from the slum houses down by the river, he encouraged her to think that being different was something special. There was nothing special about him, or his family, I can tell you. His father was a well known drunkard with no self control or decency about him. They used to say he drank because his wife was an evil old witch who ruled him with a rod of iron. Little did they know that at least part of it was true.

Then Lily got her letter from that place and I tried so hard to stop her going, but I was a lone voice fighting a losing battle. My parents thought it was wonderful, of course. She was even more different than them and they saw it as a triumph for their way of life. In a last desperate attempt to save Lily from herself I wrote to the school, to see if I could go with her. They thought I was begging for a place there, that I wanted to be like her. Absolute rubbish. I wanted to go with her to keep her safe, to remind her there was still a world with normal people in it she could come back to. Even she couldn't see it. My little sister started to patronise me, saying she would try to get me in as well and we could both be different together. That was when I called her a freak. I'm not proud of that; it was cruel of me and I hurt her, and she still went.

Everything she did after that was paraded in front of me as if she'd done something wonderfully clever and I was a nobody. She could turn a matchstick into a needle and my parents crowed over it for hours, telling me how marvellous she was. When I went to Woolworths and bought a whole pack of needles for threepence nothing was said. Of course not; I'd bought them with money I'd earned by working, instead of using a conjuring trick.

I moved out, eventually. My parents and I had become too different from each other and their world could no longer be mine. It is something I still regret. Lily had some exams coming up and she had wanted to stay for the whole year to study, not even coming home for the holidays. As I wasn't living there any more my parents decided to travel to Morocco to seek inspiration for their art. They bought an old camper van and drove off. The last card I received from them informed me they had reached Toulouse in southern France, and were making for Spain via Andorra. Somewhere in the Pyrenean Mountains the brakes on the van failed and neither of them survived the crash.

I tried not to blame anyone for what had happened but if Lily hadn't gone away, if she'd stayed at the local school like I did, they would have had to remain at home and it wouldn't have happened. She stayed with friends during the holidays after that, only coming to visit me occasionally.

By that time I was working as a secretary at a local company and that was where I met Vernon. He was a young man, doing well. He had received some promotions and was moving up the ladder but what really attracted me to him was that he was honest and decent. He had no strange views of the world. He wanted to fit in and I was honoured when he asked me out. Here, at last, was a man who knew how the world was run, and was happy to be a part of it.

He would have stayed at that company all his life and we would have had a nice house, eventually, but then he got turned down for a promotion. He was the best candidate by far, but the job went to somebody who was the son of the owner's friend and had gone to an expensive school.. Vernon was devastated and we agreed he couldn't stay there after that, so he asked me to marry him and come with him to **a** new job he had down south, near London. I said yes immediately; it was my dream come true.

Lily came to the wedding but I didn't have her as a bridesmaid as it was a very quiet affair and we didn't want any fuss. She bought her boyfriend with her. The best I can say about him is that it wasn't the one who lived near us when we were children.

Instead she bought James Potter. I knew he was rich as soon as he walked in to the room. He had that look about him that spoke of unearned money. Still, he was my sister's boyfriend, and she seemed quite besotted by him, so we tried to be pleasant. I'll never forget the answer he gave Vernon when asked what he was going to do for a living. He said he would do something, eventually, but money and a career weren't the most important thing at the moment. I will admit we took it the wrong way. We assumed he meant he would be living off his parent's wealth and I thought he was just like the stuck-up fool who had been handed the job Vernon had worked so hard for and deserved.

I lost touch with Lily a little after that. We moved to Surrey and there was so much to do. Vernon had to establish himself in a new job, so worked very hard getting his feet under the table, and I had the house to set up. It was different here, as well. We'd moved to a new housing estate in a well off area, and the culture was different. People were far more stand-offish than I was used to; nobody gossiped over the back fence. Instead, you were invited to coffee mornings. I didn't get asked at first and didn't know why; it took me a while to realise.

We were the outsiders, the incomers. We were the Northerners who had moved up to London and I was being judged. I'm sure some people probably thought we kept coal in the bath or were waiting for us to build a pigeon loft in the back garden and dig up the front lawn to grow vegetables.

If I was going to be accepted here I needed to learn how to fit in, and I had to learn fast, even if it meant talking what was effectively a new language. So, I dropped all the expressions I'd been using since childhood and replaced them with the ones people around us used. I stopped asking Vernon if he "fancied a brew", and started enquiring if he would like a cup of tea instead. I began buying bread rolls at the baker's, because they weren't called "barm cakes" here, and would remember to close a door instead of "put wood in hole".

Slowly, things began to change and Vernon found it quite funny when I started to say "barth" and "glarss". He said I sounded like the Queen, but that was what I needed to be like everyone else. Oddly, he found that keeping his accent was an advantage. It made him sound down-to-Earth and no-nonsense.

Vernon was doing well at his job, and getting on. Then I fell pregnant and I think that was the happiest time of our lives. I know, we were a happy couple. We've only ever had one row, which I will tell you about shortly, because we agree with each other on virtually everything, but we didn't just rub along. We were happy together. Vernon loved his job and loved coming back to his wife and house. He never went to the pub or football with the others, or even learnt to play golf. He came home to me instead. I loved being his wife, the woman behind the successful man. My job was to make it as easy as possible for him to get on. It was a true partnership and we had everything we needed in each other. Dudley made it complete. Now we were a family and could live our lives together, and be content watching Dudley grow and make his way in the world, with a brother or sister coming along behind maybe. Then, one day, we would be grandparents. We never wanted fame or fortune; we certainly didn't want the flimsy veil of celebrity. We wanted an ordinary life, a real life.

It didn't happen. My poor Lily was murdered. She didn't belong in that world, it wasn't hers and she shouldn't have gone. Everything I'd tried to tell her had come to pass. Now only her son remained and I was left to raise him.

I don't hate Harry, I want you to know that, but I do resent him.

It isn't because of what happened to Lily. I resent him because of what he did to us. He ruined the life we could have had and we'll never get the chance again.

When the boys were about three years old I wanted another child. I wanted another baby to cuddle and, if truth be told, I wanted a daughter I could play with and teach games to as I'd done with Lily all those years before. Vernon disagreed with me. That was the row we had. He said that two children was were enough to bring up. It didn't help endear me to Harry, but the real problem started before that.

He is my flesh and blood, and I wouldn't have turned him away, but I was never given the choice. I was never given a choice on taking him in, even if there was no choice to be made. He was left on the doorstep with a letter. Nobody called, nobody was there to give their condolences for what had happened to my sister, or explain what had happened. I was told that I had to take the boy in and give him houseroom until he reached seventeen because my blood was his blood and it would give him protection.

They never made it clear what I was protecting him from; I was left to work that out for myself.

Lily had been killed by a madman who had tried to murder her baby, and now he'd gone but nobody knew where. I had to protect Harry, but who was protecting us? Who was going to protect my husband and my son if this madman came back?

I spent years with that on my mind. Every time I looked at him I wondered when it was all going to start again. Would we end up like Lily; would I have to watch my husband and son die before I, too, was killed? Harry would be safe, because I was protecting him with my blood. He would survive. People tend to forget that, so I thought I'd remind you.

We gave him houseroom, we gave him clothes, we gave him food. What did we get in return?

I'm not talking about money. I don't need, or want, anyone's money. Harry is supposedly a very rich man yet he's never tried to pay us. Like I said, I wouldn't take it, but he's never offered. After that last lot was over he came to see us, you know. He came to check that we were alright. That was good of him, but he didn't even bring a bottle of wine and he didn't apologise for what he'd put us through.

Until he got the letters we'd never seen anybody; there had been no contact from your lot. They didn't check on him, or us. He was never taken off our hands, even for a day, to give us a break. He was just there, like something dumped at the side of the road and forgotten about until he was needed again. Until he could be useful to you once more.

You know the stories. You know how Harry "saved" the Philosopher's Stone when he was eleven. That was not coincidence. They were both used as bait by Dumbledore to lure Voldemort out of hiding.

Has that sentence surprised you? I know more about your world than you think, and it takes a lot more than a _Wingardium Leviosa_ to impress me.

That was the start of seven years of hell for me. I knew what was going on, you see. I was never told anything but the signs were there, and odd snippets that Harry let slip - or I remembered Lily saying - gave me enough information to know another war was coming. Every time I looked at him I could see Lily dead, along with my family.

I send another surprise your way. I know about Boggarts; Lily told me about them. My Boggart would be Harry. He represented the nightmare that had come back in to my life and had never left anything but death and pain and I was proved right. My son was attacked by Dementors, we were forced from our home and in to hiding. This is not the place to tell you about that year, save to say I knew if we were found we would be killed. Have that hanging over you for a year and see what it does to you, especially when your protectors hate you for what (they think) you've done to "The Chosen One".

I suppose I should get to the heart of it, shouldn't I? The reason you think so badly of me.

Yes, he slept in the cupboard under the stairs. It makes it sound like he was forced to sleep in the coal hole. It was no such thing. It was clean and warm, and not that much smaller than the box room. It kept him out of the way, at arm's length from my family. I tried to keep a distance between us, even if it was only symbolic. I locked him in there at night because I didn't want him sneaking around the house, breaking things or taking what wasn't his. Vernon backed me all the way. He would anyway because the house is my domain, but he agreed that Harry needed to learn what he was, and wasn't.

Was I really so terrible to him? I've already told you I resented him, but that wasn't why I did what I did. I didn't want him to be like Lily, that was the crux of it.

Finding out she was different affected her and not for the better. She started to think she was something she wasn't. We are ordinary people and she forgot that. She thought her magic made her special and it drove her away from her roots. Once she'd gone off to that school she never kept in touch with her childhood friends. She was too different, too special. Ordinary people, like us, do not get on in the world by being special. Ordinary people get on by working hard. I wanted Harry to grow up knowing he was nothing special. I didn't want him going out and believing he was anything other than ordinary and if he wanted to get on he had to work for it.

I used Dudley as the example. Some people say I spoilt him. No I didn't. He grew up knowing the benefits of working hard. People who work hard make money and people who make money can spend it on buying whatever they want. Dudley got the benefits of that hard work but he knew it would never last forever. Vernon used to joke to him that, if he judged it right, Dudley's inheritance would be just enough to buy a newspaper to read on the way to our funerals.

Yes Dudley had an easy life as a child but he knows now that anything he wants as an adult he has to work for. When he went to University we paid his accommodation and fees, and gave him a little extra for food but that was it. He worked for the rest; barman, shop assistant, anything he could get and if he didn't then he had no money. It was his choice. That was what I tried to teach Harry. You have to work for what you want and don't expect other people to foot the bill and give you a free ride.

Then there was the danger. I don't know everything about Voldemort, but he sounds like your version of Hitler. Racial purity and parentage were what counted. He wanted the right sort to rule and was willing to destroy anything and anyone who stood in his way. Harry was in his way, and so were we by extension.

I tried to crush the magic out of him, I don't deny that. Why should I? If Harry's right, and you are born with it, then it was an impossible task, but nobody ever told me that. I thought I could make him grow up normal. I wanted him to grow up as a Muggle, I think it is, and live like a normal person so that if you went to war again we would all be out of it. I wanted him to be ordinary. I wanted him to be safe because that would keep us safe. We would put up with him until he finished school and then leave, never to bother us again. That was my plan.

So, like I said at the start, I don't care what you think because I did what I believed was the right thing for my family. My only regret is that I failed. I failed, as a wife and a mother, to keep MY family safe from danger, but at least you know why I tried.

* * *

_AN_

_The Lowry mentioned at the start of this story is L.S. Lowry (1887-1976), an English artist best know for his stylised industrial landscapes of Lancashire, the area where I imagine Petunia growing up._

_As always, I must thank Euclidian for his comments and suggestions which are always helpful and insightful._

_Finally, thanks to the two writers who inspired this. Swallow B for showing us that every character , even an unpopular one, has a tale to tell and beeabeeon49 who's story "**I Have No Clue What's Going On" **was the spark to write this particular chapter._


	2. Prisoner: 9810C7 Crime: Snatcher

_AN: The spelling and grammatical errors in this piece are (largely) deliberate. As Prof. Henry Higgins asked in "My Fair Lady", Why Can't The English Teach Their Children How To Speak? _

* * *

My Offender Rehabilitation Liaison Officer told me to rite this. I got her job off a little card she give me so thats why i no how to spell it. She said writin wood do somefink but she started spoutin loads of big words what went strait over me head to be honest. Somefink about aknolijin me past and explorin me hopes and desires. She was wearin a short skirt so the last bit was easy even thow i coodnt tell her cos of the guards bein there.

One of the uver blokes in here he put me on to the skeme. He said most of the officers was women so you get to see a bit of totty evry now and then and if you tick all the rite boxes you can get a few weeks off your sentence.

Im not that bovvered about the last bit. Azkaban aint so bad. Bit like school really. Theres lots of stone walls but its dry and they feed you three times a day and tell you what to do. If you keeps your head down and your nose clean you gets by.

My Officer Miss Pugh says if i do well then theyll try and get me a job for when im out. Well see. I rekon prisons better than a job. Ill have to work like a house elf to get a bit of money then ill have to spend it all on food and livin some where. I get that for free now but i spose outside i can buy a bit of booze evry now and then. You dont get none in here.

You dont get no dementors any more eiver. I never liked them cos they make you see all your bad memries and there the only ones ive got. There the only fings what scare me and i new greyback. He was a nutter but he never come near us. We told him strait we said if he tutches any one of us the restll kill him. Made a sort of pact we did to keep ourselfs safe.

So i got a year of easy livin left before they throw me out of here. Two years i got for bein a snatcher. They said all fings about me at the trial how i was a disgrace to wizards and how i shood be ashamed of what i done but they never told me what i cood have done instead. People like me don't get choices we just try and get threw the day as best we can.

Miss Pugh says she feels sorry for me cos i never had a chance. Dunno. Maybe if id been born posh i might have been some one. Maybe. Spose mum and dad never did much for me cos they both liked a drink and he was always gettin in trouble so i aint the first to spend time here. Like a bit of a family tradition you might say.

I went off to school but i dunno if it done me much good. Got some nice cloves thow. Robes and trowsers and that. Some old woman brawt them round one time with some books. Mum sold most of them so she cood go on a spree. I got given me granddads old wand and i fink dad nicked evrifin else i needed. I asked him where it all come from but he said ask me no questions and ill tell you no lies.

I got put in hufflepuff cos the hat said it coodnt work out where else id fit in. I didnt go home much I fink mum and dad liked that cos it was one less mouth to feed. Hufflepuff was alrite. Old sprout use to measure me up a couple of times a year and give me new cloves if i was growin but non of the rest seemed to like me. I cood never work out what school was about so i got in truble a lot.

The teachers use to tell me ask questions so i said what me dad said and how did i no they woodnt tell me lies and id get kept back after lesons. In the end they stopped bovverin wiv me. I didnt mind.

I got two owls at a so they woodnt let me stay on so i left. I had a few jobs but the pay wasnt any good so i didnt bovver in the end. Thievin was easier.

Look i aint an animal like greyback is. I no stealins rong but if you only take stuff from people hoov got more than they can use i cant see it does no harm. If the shops and that i worked in had give me a decent wage i woodve bawt stuff but they never did so i had no choice. I gotta live like evryone else.

Then this job come up. A mate of mine told me about it. He said it was a proper job and id be workin for the ministry catchin mud bloods and that what had broken the law and gone on the run.

Miss Pugh says i have to call them muggles now but i dont see what diffrence it makes. A words a word i rekon it dont make them somefink else.

I got nuffink against mud muggles. They aint ever treated me worse than some of them purebloods wiv all there money and fancy ways but a jobs a job and it was good money. We got told theyd turn a blind eye if we wanted to do a bit of work on the side as well as long as we werent caught red handed. If you done alrite you cood get on to. Some of the lads got made death eaters and they was promised theyd get big houses and house elfs and all sorts eventuly. Maybe i shood of done it. You get a longer sentence if youve got the mark thow the guards dont treat you as good.

Most of the time it was alrite. We was just pickin up kids what had run away from school. Dunno if i fink that shood be a crime but i did what i was told. They didnt put up much of a struggle so weed take them to the ministry and get given some money and go off and enjoy ourselfs.

We got pretty good after a wile we cood sniff out the ones what lied. Only one of them got away from us and thats why i got two years. Turned out it was a mate of harry potter so it wernt smart of us to make an enemy of him.

Some times we went after grown ups. That was easier cos we was told theyd stolen stuff so they was real criminals. Most of them had stolen magic off proper wizards and thats why you get squibs. I fort that was rong. I never nicked stuff what people needed like there magic only stuff like food and money they had plenty of.

After the war i found out the bosses was lyin and these people hadn't nicked nuffink and they was just muggles what was tryin to get away so they woodnt get sent here for not bein proper wizards. It happens. Lifes crap unless your wiv the bosses. Us little people just get used..

Mind you the ones what was with greyback when they give potter and his frends to the malfoys really got it in the neck and the guards treat them like dirt. I spose thats what happens when you upset a hero and i rekon theyll be lucky to get out of here alive. Turns out winners can turn a blind eye when they want as well. Scabior got took to the hospital a couple of weeks ago cos he fell down the stairs they said. No one saw it and you woodnt say nuffink even if you did. Dangerous places stairs in Azkaban and you cant take on all the guards by yourself so you keep your head down and your nose clean.

Greybacks in a cage wiv iron bars and evrifink. They chuck lumps of raw meat to him threw a trapdoor in the roof and hes bin told hell never get out cos he aint safe to be wiv humans. You can hear him owlin when the moons full so there probly rite.

Miss Pugh says i shood fink about me future and what i want to do when i get out. What id like is to be sent away some where. I fink id like to live on an island where i can grow me own food and maybe catch some fish and not have to worry about no one else. Ive only ever took what i needed and i dont need much and i cood make me own booze. Some time i fink about that at night and i like that. Some times it even makes me feel happy and i fink that maybe Miss Pugh wood come with me but she probly woodnt cos shes got a good job and shes probably got a boyfriend wholl give her a big house.

She wont be interested in me cos im just one of the little people and i no it. No one will find me an island to live on cos itll be to much truble for them and if i find one for meself itll probly be owned by some one big who dont want me there.

So i dunno what im gonna do when i get out. I dont fink Miss Pugh is rite. I cant see that any one will give me a job exept for somefink like sweepin. Rekon ill end up goin back to thievin after a while and if it all gets to much ill get meself caught and sent back here. Well all be dead in the end so it dont make no diffrence.


	3. Percy Ignatius Weasley

I have always been the odd one out. If it were not for my hair I might question my parentage, but I am certainly a Weasley - at least by birth. I never quite fitted in, though.

I am the quiet, studious one in the family, though I have never been sure why. It is not necessarily that I am any more intelligent than the others. I think it might have been the twins, not that I'm blaming them; it's just the way things worked out. I wasn't quite two when they were born, you see, so I got rather left in the middle.

Bill and Charlie were old enough by then to occupy themselves, and certainly old enough to not want me tagging along with them. I could hardly walk, let alone keep up when they wanted to run somewhere. They had each other, at least until Bill went to school, and the twins obviously had each other so I found that I had to keep myself company. Books filled the gap.

When Ron, and especially Ginny, turned up I became the oldest brother in effect. Bill first went away to school when Ginny was just a few weeks old - three weeks to the day if you want to be exact - and Charlie followed him just after she turned two. By that stage I was seven and more than capable of reading them stories. I liked that. I have never found little children a nuisance. I liked the way they would listen to me, and I could make them laugh. Mother liked it as well because she normally had her hands full either running the house or trying to stop Fred and George destroying it.

I never quite had the same relationship with them as I did with my youngest siblings. They were not ones for sitting still, or being told stories and I suppose they really did have that link that twins are supposed to have. They thought in the same way and acted in the same way, although Fred was certainly the leader.

Whilst on the subject I suppose I should get Myth Number One out of the way.

**I wish I had died instead of Fred.**

No, I do not wish that and never have done.

I wish he had lived, but I cannot envision that I would have offered to swap places with him, even if there had been the opportunity. Does that make me a coward, or unworthy? I think not, just a realist.

That leads on to Myth Number Two, which I might as well deal with at the same time. It keeps everything in order and then I can get on with the rest.

**I blame myself for his death.**

No, I have never done so.

The blast, _Expulsio_ probably, came from nowhere so whether we were talking to each other or on guard would have made no difference. I have, I can assure you, re-run that scenario many times and I cannot see another outcome. You cannot plan for randomness and a thousand things could have been different that night. We could have been standing the other way around, or he could have been in a different corridor or just a few feet away. Or perhaps he could have been out in the grounds. Or, or, or. Nobody was guaranteed to survive, so blaming myself for what happened would be senseless and illogical.

I've answered those questions so many times it has become rote, a barrier to protect me from the sense of loss I feel. The sight of his body, lying broken on the floor, is one that will never leave me. He was my brother, part of my family, and taken from us. I am proud of him. I was proud of every one of them that night and I was proud to be a Weasley. Most of all I was proud of my Mother and Father.

It was probably the first time I had been proud of them and in that lies the root of the difficulties I had with my family; my parents in particular. Deep down, when I really analyse the problem, I was never ashamed of them but I was disappointed in them. I thought they had let themselves down, and us in turn.

It was not purely their support for Albus Dumbledore as opposed to The Ministry. That was simply the catalyst for a situation that had been brewing for many years. It actually went back to before I was born.

-o0o-

My parents met at school and have been together ever since. It seemed to be some kind of fashion at the time to marry very young. Bill was born a month after my mother turned twenty-one; my father is a few months younger than she. They eloped, so the story goes, and got married and had children. Lots of children, but it was not thought out. With children comes responsibility and my father, it seemed to me, never realised that.

Once more I will stop to clarify. In all but one thing he was a good father and I have used many of the lessons he taught me in raising my own children. He is a gentle man and taught us how to behave by example. He never shouted at us, or raised his hand - apart from one occasion with the twins, which was justified. He was always at home, if he was not at work, rather than spending evenings at a pub. Even today it is clear that he loves my mother beyond anything else.

Perhaps he was too young when they married. He was a parent whilst still in childhood himself and it has never left him. He has a keen mind, an investigative mind, yet he has tried to make his hobby his career.

He is fascinated by how things work in the Muggle world; electricity, telephones, aeroplanes. He wants to know how they function and what they are. He spent his entire working life trying to find out and it became more important to him than providing for his family.

He spent almost twenty-five years in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. That is not a career, it is a dead-end job. It is the position you take when leaving Hogwarts if there is nothing else available, simply to get your foot in door. Then you work hard and make suggestions. Perhaps you write some papers that you know will never be actioned, but that is not the intention. You write them because it gets your name known and eventually you will be offered something better. Do you honestly believe that I care one hoot about the thickness of cauldron bottoms?

My father never did that. He enjoyed his job, and so he stayed. He was offered other things but he always turned them down. He was happy buried away in his little cubby hole and eventually they forgot about him. He vegetated in that room for years, leaving my mother to bring up a family of nine on a salary that would hardly provide for two. That was the only thing I held against him, for what it did to us; particularly my mother. She never complained because she loves him as much as he loves her, but the signs were there.

My mother is a rather redoubtable witch. You all know she duelled Bellatrix Lestrange and won. I am capable of laughter and often do so when people talk about that. "Molly Weasley!" they say. "Who'd have thought she had it in her?" They have never seen her when one of us has got on the wrong side of her. Behind the façade of the little housewife and Celestina Warbeck fan is a soul of iron and a look that could turn milk at a hundred yards. I often wonder what her true potential could have been and I probably cannot even get close. She would have made a formidable auror, certainly.

I suspected her rants at us, especially the twins, were her way of letting out her frustrations at life. She had to let go occasionally just to get everything off her chest, or else she would have exploded. She spent nearly thirty years constantly juggling everything to make sure there was enough to go round and if there wasn't she was the one who went without. Every knut had to not only count, but do the work of three. As children we never realised that and it must have hurt her when we complained, or asked for things she could not possibly afford. It made her old before her time. She was so busy looking after us she never had the chance to look after herself. She had to cope with it all whilst my father sat in his cupboard playing his life away and collecting plugs.

That is what drove me when I was younger. I wanted to be successful, and I wanted to be looked up to and well regarded. I was young and I can see I did get it wrong. I tried to cultivate an air of importance about myself to show how important I was going to be. It did make me pompous but I was determined to be the best; to get as far as I could in life so that, when I eventually married, my family could have the life I wanted my mother to have. I wanted my children to have new things when they went to school, my wife to have the trappings that come with a successful family.

That was the real cause of the rift. When choices had to be made I thought my father had made the wrong ones. Then he supported Dumbledore against the Ministry and it was the final straw, another wrong choice that would disadvantage my family further.

I will not pretend I am perfect, or that what happened was only the fault of other people. However, I will say that I did what I believed to be correct - at the time - and that is all we can be judged on. If it were possible to take a NEWT in Hindsight the world would be a much happier place. Perhaps the most damning accusation you can make against me is that I was always certain of my certainties; it was the others who were wrong.

-o0o-

If there is a moment I can point to when it became impossible for me to stay with my parents it would be Cedric Diggory's death. I knew Diggory slightly from school; he was two years below me, and he was a capable wizard. He was more experienced - and certainly more able - than Harry. It seemed inconceivable that Harry had survived something which Cedric could not.

Something in the story did not quite fit. It was all rather too "convenient", the way that Harry announced Voldemort's return and Dumbledore backed him so readily. Of course we knew nothing at the time about the prophecy and old magic that protected him, nor did we know he was telling the truth, and I've already made my views on being wise after the event known.

My honest opinion was that Dumbledore tried to use the tragedy of Cedric's death to make political capital. It is common knowledge that he had been offered the role of Minister on more than one occasion but had always turned it down. It is also known that he did not have a high opinion of Fudge, who had eventually taken the position.

On this I am very clear. If you think you are the best person for the job, you take it. If you do not, then you stand aside. Dumbledore did neither; he refused the position, but wanted the influence. He meddled in things that he had chosen not to be involved in and he did it in the wrong way.

Dumbledore should not have gone public. That he turned out to be right is neither here nor there; his handling of the situation made matters worse. He should have kept his fears to himself and taken them to the Ministry. Instead he announced to his school that Voldemort had returned. That is not something to tell impressionable teenagers, who immediately told their parents, and all hell broke loose. Dumbledore's interjection made the situation very difficult because people wanted answers and they wanted them now. The result was that time and resources were spent managing public reaction, and playing down Dumbledore's unproven accusations, that could have been better used investigating the issues he said existed.

Even today, with a lot more information, I cannot understand Dumbledore's agenda. If I am to be balanced it is possible that he had his suspicions that the Ministry had been infiltrated. He was, after all, familiar with the concept of spying and double agents. Perhaps his own subterfuge with Severus Snape had made him paranoid. Also it is possible, if I dare say it, that his own failings in the past made him suspicious of the motives of others.

However, even after the battle inside the Ministry itself, instead of working with us he seemed to set himself up in opposition and withheld information that could have proved vital. We know now of his researches into the creation of horcruxes and his suspicions of the objects Voldemort may have chosen. We know the importance of Harry. None of that was communicated.

My parents, and my family, chose to take his side and I did not. It was my belief that only the Ministry had the power to withstand Voldemort.

I will admit that mistakes were made. Cornelius Fudge did not prove, on final analysis, to be a suitable Minister given the gravity of the situation. It is not my place to blacken his name further, and I shall not do so. I got on well with him during the time we worked together and I will admit I set out to impress him. However, on balance he proved to be no more than a competent administrator whilst things were going well.

It is also true that mistakes continued to be made under Rufus Scrimgeour, a man I admired and who deserves our respect. He eventually came to realise the importance of Harry to Voldemort's defeat, but by then it was too late and he chose to sacrifice his own life to protect him. I believe it would have made a difference if he had had that information to hand before Dumbledore's death. So the Ministry fell and I was estranged from my family.

-o0o-

It took a while for the truth to become apparent. On the 2nd of August we turned up for work, as usual, to find an announcement that Scrimgeour had been taken ill and Pius Thicknesse had assumed his responsibilities. The note finished with "I am sure you will join me in wishing Rufus a speedy recovery".

At first nothing was different and then rumours started to circulate. Rumours were always circulating and so I tended to ignore them. It was certainly not the case that Death Eaters started patrolling the corridors, or that Voldemort took charge. To my knowledge he never entered the Ministry and the first time I saw him was at Hogwarts. It was the classic entrapment.

By the time it was apparent something had happened it was too late. The first signs had been subtle, deliberately planned to allay suspicions. Some people left at very short notice and department heads started to appear who had no background, but it was explained as sweeping away some of the hidebound traditions of the past. The Ministry has always been that in matters of promotion; seniority was more important than ability, something that had caused me frustration. Now I found myself reporting to people I had little knowledge of, which was unsettling, but work continued as normal and I convinced myself that change was for the best. Reports were still written and meetings attended.

The true picture did not emerge until later in August, when the muggleborns started to be removed from their posts and then the announcement of the Muggleborn Registration Committee was made. We were summoned to a presentation, backed by a large bound report that was waved around, and told that Muggles had been stealing magical ability. I did not believe it, nor do I think did anyone else in the room. I asked if copies of the report would be made available and was told they would be. I never saw one.

Shortly after that we were informed that annual assessments would be brought forward and we would be called in as required. Normally the assessment required one to complete a form; achievements in the year, progress against objectives, future aims, etc. That year there was nothing, simply an interview.

After a perfunctory review of my performance the questions regarding my family and their relationship with Harry started. I was amazed at what they knew, compared to me. It was not a case of me lying or thinking on my feet; they asked questions I had no knowledge of. Had Harry been at Bill's wedding? Was he dating Ginny? How was my brother Ron's Splattergroit progressing? They kept coming back to questions regarding my family and Harry and eventually I had to tell them I was no longer in contact. They wanted to know why and I had to be careful. I kept it to problems within the family, the way I had been treated by the twins and so on. They wanted examples and I could give enough of those to deflect suspicion for a while.

I knew it was not over. The following Monday morning I was joined in the lift by a complete stranger. We nodded to each other and he asked a fairly bland opening question as to whether I had had a good weekend. I muttered a platitude in return. His follow up was more direct. "Did you see your family?"

That was when I knew I had to take action for all our sakes. That was the hard part. I had to become the Percy everybody assumed I was to ensure nothing I said or did could be used as evidence of their disloyalty to the new regime. By publicly falling out with them I could keep my distance. I could honestly say I knew nothing of their activities.

There were suspicions some of my family were involved in the resistance, such as it was. Fred and George were broadcasting on Potterwatch but as long as I kept my distance I could be of no use in providing information. I only listened to it a couple of times, to be honest. It seemed a fairly futile gesture so it was better for me to ignore it.

My father was seen as inconsequential and of no real threat so I kept it that way by treating him as such. We had a very public row where I tried to persuade him that he needed to support the Ministry. When he refused it gave me the excuse to say he was a fool and stop talking to him. It protected him; he remained "Good old Arthur", the time server.

My mother, in a rare lapse of judgment, decided she needed to try and bring about a reconciliation. The second hardest thing I have ever done in my life was turning her away from my door. The hardest thing I have ever done was returning my Christmas present unopened.

Of course it hurt them, of course it cut all communication between us; that was the idea.

Can you imagine what would have happened if I had still been in contact with them? The Ministry did not need a _Cruciatus_ curse to obtain information; they had plentiful supplies of _Veritaserum. _All it would need would be for somebody to doctor my cup of tea on a Monday morning, followed by an _obliviate_, and the Ministry would have a spy right in the enemy camp.

That winter was an incredibly depressing time. I have never felt so isolated and it probably led to an increasing paranoia. There was nobody I could talk to. Penelope was long gone; our relationship did not survive Hogwarts. She found somebody more interesting than me once we started work. I had few acquaintances at school, even fewer friendships, and they did not survive me remaining a Ministry hack once Thicknessse was in charge and it was obvious to us all he was Voldemort's puppet. As an ex-Gryffindor prefect it was not felt I had made the correct decision to remain there - as a collaborator.

By Easter things had settled into a new kind of normality and work continued as it had always done. The Ministry did not degenerate into anarchy, because that is not the way government runs. Forms still had to filled in and committee meetings attended. All the politics happened separately and out of sight. It had become clear by then that I was of no use to anybody so I was left alone, as much as anyone could be at that stage. We were always being watched for signs of deviation from the party line. However, there were no more interrogations about my family's activities and I did not know they had gone in to hiding until somebody mentioned that the twin's shop had been closed up. That weekend I went home, for the first time since I had accompanied Scrimgeour, to find it empty. The wards had been changed and I was denied entry.

Part of me was pleased that my subterfuge had worked but a much larger part died. I hadn't been told. I was no longer considered one of the family. That evening I returned to my flat and got out the picture of us in Egypt. I considered contacting Charlie, or maybe going to see him. I even thought about getting drunk but then remembered I had no alcohol, being something I seldom partake of. Instead I went to bed and cried myself to sleep. Perfect Percy, the boy who had wanted nothing more than a career, had come to fruition.

Why did I not try to find them? Why did I not attempt to seek out the opposition? Primarily it was because there was no opposition to join. Leaving would mean going in to hiding and by then we all knew about the snatchers. I will not pretend and try to tell you I stayed at my post awaiting the clarion call of freedom to sound. I stayed and kept my head down because I could not find a viable alternative. In terms of career aspirations it was the point at which I gave up any pretensions of one day being Minister. I realised that I was an administrator rather than leader. I could see no option other than trying to get through whatever was going to happen.

-o0o-

The day it all changed I first thought a swarm of bees had managed to get in to the building. A murmuring, buzzing sound filled the corridor outside my office. When I looked out people were milling around, excited, agitated, I'm not sure. Something had happened at Gringotts. There were rumours that it had been attacked and there had been an explosion. Then I heard Harry's name mentioned, along with "the mudblood girl". It did not take me long to work out who the third terrorist must have been. I got my cloak and went home because I felt worried and exposed. I had tried to keep Ron out of all this, even writing to him at one point and warning him away from Harry. That had been when Dumbledore began causing trouble. Now it looked as if my little brother was right in the middle of things. Not knowing what to do was the worst part of it. I plan, that is what I do, and then I add contingencies to plans. I am not a spontaneous person by nature and this situation required me to react rather than be in control. I knew I would struggle, so tried to give myself some thinking space.

That evening the call came to say that Harry was at Hogwarts. Everyone was gathering and preparing to fight so what was I going to do about it? It was Aberforth Dumbledore who contacted me. He'd been one of the few friends I'd had at school, surprisingly. Hogwarts weekends had never held much attraction for me and I had often found myself alone in the Hog's Head. It was preferable to being alone in The Three Broomsticks, surrounded by other people enjoying themselves. I think we recognised each other as kindred spirits, Aberforth and I; outsiders within our respective families and peer groups.

I went. They gave me a medal for going, you know; an Order of Merlin, Second Class. I never bothered telling them I went because I was scared. I think the pressure of the last months finally got to me and I just wanted it to be over, one way or the other. I went to Hogwarts fully expecting to die, but at least it would be finished.

Finding my family there made it easier. Come the end we would be together, a family once more. My opinions, and I realised at that point they were opinions rather than absolute truths, were no longer important. I would be with my family; the prodigal had returned and I was welcomed back. The twins greeted me in their own imitable style, but I knew the sentiments behind their words and they were probably correct in their assessment of me.

This is not the place to record my memories of the battle. We fought. Some lived and some died and those that lived grieved for those who had not.

It was only afterwards that I stood apart from the rest. I was uncertain if this was the time to explain what I had done, or if they wanted to hear it. Then my mother and father hugged me. They did not speak, nor ask me any questions. I tried to tell them I was sorry but they hushed me and held me and stroked my hair and we cried together.

That was when I learnt the most important lesson of my life. A parent's love for their child is unconditional. They never held what I did against me, even before I had explained my actions. They had accepted, if not understood, my decisions because it was my life to do with as I saw fit. They had not judged me, as I had judged them.

-o0o-

I occasionally see Oliver Wood, the Quidditch player with whom I was at school. We are acquaintances rather than friends, but we chat. Normally, at some point, I will say something which causes him to exclaim "Same old Percy!"

I am Percy Weasley and always will be. My reports are still meticulously planned and researched. I hold absolutely that processes are written to be followed, and I do that to the letter. My brother George, even now, has to explain why his latest gizmo is funny and I tend to spend most of my time at a family gathering talking to my sister-in-law Hermione. She and I are most similar in our thought processes.

What, I believe, has changed about me is my acknowledgement of other views as I strive to separate opinion from fact. Different is neither right nor wrong, merely different. George says I still behave like a Hogwarts prefect but he says that of Hermione, as well, so I tend to disregard him.

I remain Percy Weasley, but perhaps a more human version.


	4. Lucius Malfoy

I spend a lot of time sitting in this chair. It gives the best view of the estate; the small part they left us after we had paid our reparations. My family have been looking on this property for over one thousand years, and the greater landscape in which it is set for even longer.

The histories will tell you we arrived with William when he came to claim the throne that was his by right, but that is not strictly true. We came _**back**_ with William, returning to an island Seutonius had driven us from a millennium previously, almost to the year. Then the name was Maolfawr - Great Servant. It is only coincidence that adapting it to something vaguely Gallo-Romance gave us a name that means "Bad faith" - Malfoy .

We have always been servants; that is why we have survived for so long. None of my ancestors have ever been Minister for Magic, nor did they ever seek the role. With power comes responsibility, and the ability to fail. The Gaunts and the Peverils all sought power and their names are now only found in the histories. The Malfoys are still here. We do not covet leadership but build our fortunes - and fortune - by supporting those who will rise to the top. That support must, by necessity, be based on expediency. Royal houses come and go, politics changes, even religion is not immune.

Today we use "putting ones head on the block" to mean doing something that may involve an element of risk to one's reputation. For many of my ancestors, making a wrong choice in whom to follow would have led to a real block with an executioner standing beside it. We have always served those who look most likely to win, at any given point in time but have also made deals, bent with the wind and swapped horses on many occasions. We have survived.

Whilst our fortunes may rise and fall with time the essence of our being remains; our roots fixed deep in the ground. We, and the people like us, are the bedrock on which this society is based. That is what the Weasleys and their ilk cannot understand. They believe that a society is simply a group of people making up the rules as they go along, and changing those rules to suit whatever is fashionable at the moment. They do not understand the nature of the bloodline. To them there is no difference between the thoroughbred and the nag, the pedigree and the mongrel.

The thoroughbred will win a race because it has been bred with care, to best fit the place it will have in life. The nag is also bred to fit its place, of course, but nobody of any intelligence would attempt to make them swap roles. We hold the traditions in place. We maintain the purity of our stock against the invaders who would weaken us. Yes, I am talking about the muggles and half-bloods, although I have no doubt those words will soon be banned in our bright new future where everybody is equal and the parvenu has the same status as the pureblood.

I do not hate muggles, particularly, any more than I hate a fox. However, if a fox were threatening the livestock then I would not stand idly by. We, as wizards, are powerful people but few in number. In a war of attrition against muggles they could lose thousands to our one and still triumph. Our only hope for survival is isolation. The Statute of Secrecy, though initially opposed by my family, has been the saving of us all and yet every year we allow the very people it was designed to protect us from to enter our homes and schools. They have no knowledge of our history; our real history. They have no loyalty to our society. They have been fed stories of wise women or evil doers which they confuse with their religions, and they would have us burnt at the stake. The muggle-born witch or wizard is the greatest threat to our existence. Just a few renegades abusing the education we give them and the secrets we reveal to them could destroy us and that was why I, and others like me, supported the Dark Lord.

He was the best hope we had to preserve both society and ourselves. We knew his history was long, on one side, and largely chose to ignore the other. In some ways it was even seen as an advantage to us because he knew the sort of people we were dealing with. Even though his wish was to dominate both worlds that was not important to most of his followers. We required no more than the preservation of our purity, our society. That was the first aim and the means justified the end. We stood and watched as he brought in the werewolves and giants because they were useful to us in the primary objective of cleansing our world.

Once that had been achieved I believe that he would not have lasted for too long, and his mercenaries would have been removed along with him. The Dark Lord was the best hope to win the war but others, of purer blood than he, would have been needed to rule the peace and plans were in hand to achieve that. The Malfoys, obviously, would have been on hand to serve, as we have always done.

I often wonder what my happily missed sister-in law Bellatrix would have made of a post-war world if we had prevailed. I suspect she would have died defending her Master, as she always did have a rather Saxon view of loyalty. Unlike her I chose not to fight battles that had already been lost. When the Dark Lord was originally overcome, dead for all we knew, she chose to go out in a pointless blaze of glory and spent fifteen years in Azkaban for her troubles. A martyr in her own mind, yet stupid in her actions. Had he not returned she would have died in that prison and achieved nothing.

I chose survival. It was easy enough to feign compulsion in my actions and my vault was deep enough for me to show the sincerity of my atonement. Crucially, it ensured my liberty in order that I could raise my son properly, as a Malfoy should be raised. Of course, if things had gone badly the job could have been entrusted to Narcissa. She has proved herself to be a true and loyal wife, worthy of my name. She realises that we are custodians, not owners, and that our role is to preserve the line and in that she has performed her duty faithfully. Indeed, were we to indulge in such fancies I might even admit to loving her. Suffice to say I realise my parents made an excellent choice for me.

It made little difference to me that the Dark Lord had gone. It is true I felt some regret that I had not been able to witness pureblood triumph but what is now referred to as the first Voldemort war energised our people. It would only be a matter of time before a new leader arose, and time is something my family has plenty of. I look at my family tree stretching in to the past and know that we shall have a future as long or even longer. I at that stage had secured the line and we could wait, for generations if necessary, for a new leader to arrive.

His eventual return came as a surprise to me, albeit a pleasant one; perhaps I would see ultimate victory in my lifetime after all. It was no more difficult to persuade him of my loyalty that than it had been Cornelius Fudge. All leaders are essentially the same in that they seek fidelity but do not question it too deeply; a simple act of obedience normally suffices.

I returned to serving my original master, and performed his will. There are times when even the most careful person has to take risks, and I did so. It almost went wrong on several occasions, but that was of no particular importance providing my son was kept safe as he approached manhood. If my death had secured his place amongst the elite then it would not have been in vain.

So another battle loomed and it must be said that I had allowed my position of influence to wane. My capture at the Ministry of Magic several years earlier had not been taken well and then Draco's failure to complete the task he had been set further lowered our standing.

By the time we assembled at Hogwarts I had lost all credibility with the Dark Lord. It might have destroyed a lesser man, but I could draw strength once more on the antiquity of my family. It has happened in the past and will no doubt happen again as the wheel of fortune turns. In history the individual is nothing. I am but a link in a chain that must remain unbroken. My real role has always been to produce an heir and maintain the family assets as intact as possible. Therefore it was paramount that one of us had to survive or else all would have been ruined. However, as the situation developed Draco became more involved than I had planned. That was unfortunate for it exposed us both and I had not allowed for my son's demise rather than my own.

Even that situation, had it occurred, would not have been irrecoverable; although it would have led to a certain amount of inconvenience. Narcissa is no longer capable of bearing a child and so it would have necessitated replacing her in order that a new heir could be produced; the Malfoys have always believed in moral rectitude and legitimised their births. I would have regretted that. As I have said she is an exemplary spouse, but she would have understood and stepped aside and I would have made a suitable settlement on her, obviously.

I expected to die, more likely at the Dark Lord's hand as he had become completely unstable by that stage; his father's genes no doubt. Narcissa and I therefore concentrated on finding Draco and keeping him safe. I have to say her subterfuge in getting us to the castle filled me with admiration. My own mother had never been faced with such a situation but I have no doubt she would have reacted in the same way to save me. The capacity of a woman to do her duty should not be underestimated and Draco did survive to continue the line.

I spend a lot of time sitting in this chair looking on the land that has belonged to us for over one thousand years. Through the window I can see my son walking in the garden with my grandson. Draco has fulfilled his role and provided a new generation.

Scorpius is young yet and so has much to learn. That will be my role as his grandfather. I will teach him that we have a long history, and he is required to secure our future. I will teach him that our fortunes are low at the moment but they have been low in the past and we have prevailed and will prevail again. I will teach him the true meaning of carrying the surname Malfoy.

I will teach him that, one day, during some future generation, a new leader will arise to lead purebloods to their true destiny. I will teach him that the Great Servants must be ready to do their duty.

* * *

_AN_

_"William" is William the Conqueror - or Guillaume de Normandie, or William the bastard; take your pick. You can also choose if he invaded and conquered England in AD 1066, or came to claim the throne he had been promised._

_"Seutonius" is Gaius Suetonius Paulinus, Roman governor of Britain who defeated the Druids in AD 61._


End file.
